Former Trump campaign manager Corey Lewandowski’s newly released book details some alarming details about Donald Trump’s fast food-based campaign diet: The alleged “healthiest individual to ever run for office” would regularly go without food for the entirety of his 14- to 18-hour work day and then reward himself with two Big Macs, two Filet-O-Fish and a chocolate milkshake.
Let’s run those numbers, nutritionally speaking:
- Big Mac: 540 calories; 28 grams of fat; 80 milligrams of cholesterol; 46 grams of carbohydrates; and 1,007 milligrams of sodium. (Times two, of course.)
- Filet-O-Fish: 400 calories; 20 grams of fat; 45 milligrams of cholesterol; 38 grams of carbohydrates; and 582 milligrams of sodium. (Again, times two.)
- Medium Chocolate Milkshake: 750 calories; 22 grams of fat; 70 milligrams of cholesterol; 81 grams of carbohydrates; and 310 milligrams of sodium.
That’s a grand total of…
- 2,630 calories
- 118 grams fat
- 320 milligrams of cholesterol
- 249 grams of carbohydrates
- 3,488 milligrams of sodium
“What’s most concerning about this meal is not what’s in the food,” says David Wiss, MEL’s go-to dietitian from Nutrition in Recovery in L.A., “but what isn’t: fruits, vegetables, fiber and healthy fats — the micronutrients that promote health.”
Maintaining The Donald’s gluttonous Golden Arches regimen required the determination of an elite sportsman, Lewandowski told Business Insider last week. “He would go and work 14 or 16 or 18 hours a day and not eat because he was so focused like a professional athlete would be. He’s in that game, and he would wait until that game was over before we went out and got food for him.”
It’s safe to say the 72-year-old POTUS is set in his ways, though he has previously demonstrated a willingness to adjust his diet in the name of wellness. After being lambasted for eating pizza with a fork in 2011, the germaphobe explained in a video from his office desk that utensils help him limit carbs. “I like to not eat the crust so we can keep the weight down at least as good as possible.”
Curious what it’s like to dine like the leader of the free world while minding your figure (as well as possible), MEL’s assistant art director, Sam Dworkin, and I moseyed on over to our local McDonald’s yesterday around lunchtime and returned with a Thanksgiving dinner’s worth of calories.
When it came time for Sam and me to chow down, we had the same instinct: start with a Filet-O-Fish. At least to my way of thinking, it was relatively slight compared to the Big Mac, and once finished, it would leave only one mess of fried fish, processed orange cheese and gloppy, pickle-studded mayonnaise on a soft, squishy bun to stomach. Besides, isn’t the F.O.F. among McDonald’s “healthier” options? (Not really, says Wiss. “The main benefits of fish are the omega-3 fatty acids. Unfortunately, there is little or no omega-3 in the ‘fish’ they use at McDonalds.”)
After a quick tug on the shake, Big Mac #1 was the logical next choice, which was like shaking hands with an old friend.
Sam and I both felt good at the halfway mark, if a little burpy, when our strategies diverged.
Seemingly pleased with how freely the combo of beef patties, special sauce, pickles, onions, et al. went down the first time, my younger cocky colleague went back-to-back-Mac in the 2 / 3 slot while I struggled to wash down the second fast-food seafood sandwich I’d ever consumed with the balance of my chocolate shake.
Headed into the fourth quarter with one sandwich remaining, Sam and I had been visibly shaken by the Hamburglar.
Daunted, Sam turned to Adam Richman, former host of the Travel Channel’s Man Vs. Food — a man who regularly inhaled 5 pound burgers and 12 egg omelets for years before becoming a vegan — to advise him on completing the Trump Campaign Training Meal. Richman’s suggestion? Stop immediately.
Wiss agreed. “That amount of food would be considered a binge for most people. It’s not appropriate for a single meal.”
So with heavy, congealing hearts, we heeded the warnings and suspended the competition.
My palms began sweating immediately and continued to do so throughout the afternoon; I also experienced moderate shortness of breath. In addition:
After 30 minutes
The predominant emotion was confusion. We felt unsure of what we’d done. “My body is in shock,” Sam said, then headed out for a cigarette.
After 2 hours
I’d fallen into a melancholic haze which resulted in an embarrassingly unproductive afternoon. Guess I won’t be hitting that deadline, I figured. “I’m kinda sad,” I confessed to Sam. “Agreed,” he replied matter-of-factly. “But I think I could probably eat a McChicken sandwich.”
After 3 hours
“Might want to clear your schedule after lunch in case you need to lie down!” Wiss aptly warned. Exhausted and sickly, Sam and I cut out of work an hour early and I was in bed by 8 p.m.
If this is how Trump eats, does he feel like this all the time? I wonder. (I certainly wouldn’t have trusted myself with the nuclear codes yesterday afternoon, as I slipped in and out of fits of confusion, exhaustion and despondent self-hatred.)
Perhaps, Wiss says, but everyone is different.
“One person could eat like this and be somewhat healthy. The next person would be riddled with chronic disease.”